Unexpected chaos or the time Combeferre made paper aeroplanes
by stagepageandscreen
Summary: "Why do I get the feeling there is a story behind this?" Eponine asked. Bahorel kicked Courfeyrac, who was still on the floor. "Get up you twit, we are in need of your ridiculous dramatics." Story behind why no paper aeroplanes are allowed at meetings. Modern AU


**A/N Hi this is Rachel, stagepageandscreen's little sister. I was the one to come up with this genius idea for a one shot and…**

**SPAS: **_**Hey! It was my idea as well! Also, I'm the one typing this and it's my account. Therefore, it is my story!**_

**Little sis of awesome has struck again! Oh, and it was sooo my idea! I had you crying with laughter on the kitchen floor! You were in stiches!**

…_**.Oh shut up. Still my account. **_

**Not for long….. **

_**In your dreams. Now, on with the story! Oh, btw, this falls into the universe of my other fiction, Well that was Unexpected. It's set after the Combeferre chapter.**_

**Just you wait my friend, just you wait. Now everyone reading, I hope you like this and...**

…_**enjoy! **_

**Disclaimer: Neither my crazy little sister nor I own anything associated to Les Miserables. Well, apart from the program from when we went to see it in London last week! BEST DAY EVER!**

Enjolras flinched as something tapped him on the back of his head with a sharp sting. Methodically pressing save on his laptop, he turned to see the cause of this disturbance. A single paper aeroplane made out of plain white paper (probably from Grantaire's sketchbook) lay unassumingly on the floor by his chair.

"Who threw this?" He glared at the room in general, his menace causing the occupants to instantly point the finger of blame where it was due.

"Gee, thanks guys." Eponine drawled, snuggling closer under Grantaire's arm, a cheeky smirk on her face.

Enjolras sighed. Who else had he expected it to be? The girl seemed to delight in trying to get a rise out of him, sometimes going to extreme lengths to do so. His bedazzled Converse were a testament to this. "No paper aeroplanes allowed at meetings." He snapped, scrunching the plane into a ball and dropping it into the bin.

"Oh, sue me." Eponine sighed, smirking at the look on Enjolras' face. "Anyway, why can't we have paper aeroplanes at meetings?"

Everyone gasped and Courfeyrac even went as far as to throw himself off his chair in a mock faint.

"Why do I get the feeling there is a story behind this?" Eponine asked.

Bahorel kicked Courfeyrac, who was still on the floor. "Get up you twit, we are in need of your ridiculous dramatics."

Courfeyrac popped up from his place on the floor, his grey beanie slightly lopsided, allowing a strange ginger coloured curl to escape. "You mean you need my awesome story telling skills? Who am I to refuse my adoring fans?"

"If we ever meet one of your fans, we'll tell you." Combeferre said dryly. "And I'm sure Eponine doesn't want to hear about that 'incident'."

Courfeyrac threw him a dirty look but said nothing, instead settling himself in the corner currently occupied by Grantaire and Eponine and launching into his tale.

"It was several months ago, before you met us…" he began doing strange movements with his hands and a strange tinkling music started playing.

Eponine stared at him for a moment before slowly asking, "Um, Courf? What are you doing?"

"Flashback sequence." The reply was spoken as if this was totally normal. Though actually, knowing this group it probably was.

"And the music…?"

Jehan waved his phone cheerfully. "It's a Mystical Music app!"

Eponine raised one eyebrow, a skill Courfeyrac had yet to master, much to his annoyance. "...All righty, then. The story if you please."

"You're going to regret this." Grantaire muttered, taking a long pull on his beer.

Courfeyrac assumed what he probably thought was a mysterious air, but actually it looked like he was suffering from trapped wind. "It was a cold winter's night in the depths of Paris and the wind was howling outside, bitter and cold and…"

"What are talking about?" Joly shouted out from across the room. "It was the middle of summer!"

"Who is telling this story?" Courfeyrac yelled back before finally settling into his tale.

Enjolras just sighed and rolled his eyes. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

One of the lesser known facts about Combeferre was that he was a master of origami. He could make just about anything and, on one particularly memorable occasion, had gone through innumerable sheets of paper to make something (from pirate hats to peacocks) for every child on the children's ward in the hospital he was interning at. Needless to say he had been rather popular after that, with the children, their parents, and the staff.

One evening in the Musain, he was using his talents for something rather more mundane, that is, trying to find the perfect design for a paper aeroplane. The meeting had finished a while ago and everyone had relaxed somewhat, laughing and drinking. Enjolras was pounding away on his laptop, crushed onto a corner of the table, taking no notice of the conversation flowing around him.

Combeferre, having finally found a design he was happy with, set to work with a piece of paper taken off Grantaire. A mere minute later, the tiny aircraft had been created and was ready for its maiden voyage. Little did Combeferre know the chaos that was about to take place.

He launched the piece of artfully folded paper which flew straight and true across the room before landing delicately in front of Courfeyrac.

Courfeyrac, who was feeling rather bored and childish that evening, had picked up the plane and began to poke Joly in the side of the neck with the nose of the aircraft.

Bossuet, upon seeing his best friend's annoyance and discomfort, hit Courfeyrac upside the head to which Courfeyrac retaliated to by kicking out at Bossuet.

Unfortunately, due to the seating arrangements, he hit Bahorel instead. Bahorel leant across the table to smack him, but Courfeyrac, with a cheeky grin, ducked.

The blow instead connected with Joly, giving him a nosebleed and sending him into a panic. He jumped up, shouting furiously at an apologetic Bahorel, a stray arm knocking into Jehan who was stood behind him about to offer some help.

Jehan stumbled backwards and crashed into a waitress who was carrying a tray of drinks to their table.

Thrown off balance, she tripped and dropped the tray, the drinks on the tray landing on Bossuet and thoroughly drenching him.

Grantaire at this point had begun to laugh.

Cosette had been helping the waitress by carrying a second tray for her, this one bearing several cups of coffee and a large custard tart requested by Jehan. Rushing forwards to help, she slipped on the floor, her arms jerking upwards in an attempt to rebalance herself. The drinks and desert flew up into the air and began to descend towards Feuilly who cringed, preparing to be scalded by coffee.

Somehow, every single cup, and its contents, missed him, the cup shattering on the floor. Thinking he was safe he looked up, only to get hit in the face by the custard tart. He swiped a hand across his eyes to clear his vision and flicked the mess angrily away. Marius, who had been helping Cosette and the waitress up, got hit in the face by the lump of custard. In surprise he jumped, knocking into the table that Combeferre and Enjolras were sitting at.

The movement of the table knocked over Enjolras' glass of water, sending the contents rushing along the table towards Enjolras' laptop.

The events previously mentioned had taken place in only about thirty seconds. Therefore, Enjolras was not aware of the threat that his laptop was under until the water connected with the overworked fan.

The laptop hissed and sputtered for the briefest of moments, before sending out a flash of sparks and then dying completely.

Enjolras' cry of "NO!" brought the whole chaotic café to a standstill. He was sat, staring at the black screen, his face the picture of disbelief.

Jehan was the first to speak. "Was it on a USB stick?"

"No." was the quiet reply. Most people would have thought Enjolras was being pretty calm about the whole ordeal, but those who knew him well could tell he was livid. The familiar vein in his forehead that normally only Grantaire was able to invoke, was prominent on his noble looking forehead and his right eye was beginning to twitch uncontrollably.

Combeferre was very wisely staying quiet, another half-finished paper aeroplane sat on the table before him.

Enjolras took a deep breath, surveying the destruction that lay before him. He then turned, slowly and carefully to face his best friend.

"We are never having paper aeroplanes at meetings again." His eyes flickered to his dead laptop. "Ever."

* * *

"And that," Courfeyrac concluded solemnly, "is why we don't have paper aeroplanes at meetings. Ever."

Eponine shook her head in amazement. "If you wrote it, people would say it was ridiculous. Only you lot could manage to create that much damage in that space of time."

"Oh, you don't know the half of it!" Courfeyrac grinned. "Wait till I tell you about the time Bossuet set Musichetta's favourite rug on fire!"


End file.
